


Cherry Garcia

by somekindofgnome



Series: Kinktober 2020 [18]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ice Cream, Kitchen Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, this is so soft u will fall right through it, u have been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somekindofgnome/pseuds/somekindofgnome
Summary: You’ve made an unfortunate habit of pilfering Bucky’s ice cream stash. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he caught you.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946362
Comments: 2
Kudos: 114





	Cherry Garcia

**Author's Note:**

> a;flajkdfn;aewoifaekanvakfv;aBLAHHHHHH I FORGOT TO POST THIS YESTERDAY. I'M A DOOF ._. SORRY!
> 
> In other news, there will either be two uploads today or two tomorrow, because I've been stuck on today's fic for DAYS. stay tuned it's going to be another fluff bomb.

It’s three o’clock in the morning and you’re _starving._

You’re not quite sure when this little habit of yours turned into such a thing. After all, originally it was a bit of a fluke. You were fresh off a mission with frayed nerves and exhausted muscles. It had been the middle of the night and you’d just wanted a little comfort food.

It wasn’t _your_ fault that you’d found out about Bucky’s love of ice cream. It was something he’d never tried growing up. Milk, sugar and eggs were commodities far too valuable to be affordable in his youth. Let alone the even _more_ precious ability to keep things cold.

Now, he keeps at least three flavours of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer at all times. They’re always there, though, so you can’t imagine he samples them often. What, you’d thought, so many nights ago, could _possibly_ be the harm in sampling a few bites?

Of course, a few bites at the end of a long mission soon blossomed into more. These days, you were sneaking down every night to grab a bowl. Sitting on the counter with your legs dangling over the edge and finishing it in the dark. Then crawling back upstairs to bed, quiet as a mouse.

Not quiet enough, as you were about to find out.

The compound kitchen is _massive-_ like the kitchen in a restaurant, or a bakery. Double ovens on one wall, a _massive_ eight-burner Viking, two fridges and an upright freezer. It has to store enough food to feed the entire team, after all. Snack hoards included.

But it still feels homey these days. There are beautiful windows above the sink that stream butterscotch sunlight in the morning. There’s a little breakfast nook tucked away to one side. And you have so many memories of this place. Baking pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving, making a mess of Steve’s birthday cake. Fighting over who’s going to clean up after Vision cooks dinner for all of you.

And sneaking into the freezer in the middle of the night for a taste of Bucky’s Cherry Garcia.

You take your usual post on the edge of the counter, flipping open the paper lid and digging your spoon into the frozen treat. You’re lifting the first sinful bite to your lips when-

“Ah- _hah.”_

Your blood goes cold. You know that voice.

“ _Bucky,”_ you squeak. Slowly, you set the ice cream down and nudge it away from you, but it’s too late. You’ve been caught Cherry Garcia-handed.

“Please,” he croons, holding up a palm with a smug smirk. He glides across the dark kitchen with all the grace of stalking cat. He’s pretty comfortable invading your personal space these days, much to your chagrin. As a result, he’s not shy about coming right up between your thighs, flesh and metal sliding up your bare skin.

Your face tilts forward out of habit, but he keeps his mouth hovering above yours, letting a soft puff of breath over your lips.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he chuckles. He brushes his nose against yours and pulls away, snagging the open ice cream from beside you.

“You gonna tell me how long this has been going on?” He asks. It’s obvious, as he stirs the ice cream with your abandoned spoon, that he finds this _hilarious._ You suppose you should be relieved. Then again, you can’t imagine Bucky getting _seriously_ upset at you for pilfering his ice cream stash.

You don’t understand why you’re so embarrassed, then.

“Remember Rome?” You purse your lips. It was months ago. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“You little _minx,”_ he accuses, dabbing the spoon into the rapidly softening Cherry Garcia. He takes a little spoonful and smirks, holding it up to your lips. You’re dying to know what he’s thinking right now, but you take the scoop, tasting Vermont-sweetened cherry and the bitter snap of a chocolate chunk.

“I shoulda known,” he chuckles, taking a bite for himself and putting the carton down. He braces his hands on your thighs again. “I don’t even _like_ Cherry Garcia. But _somebody_ took the seal off, didn’t they?”

He leans forward, and this time he doesn’t wait to close the gap between you. His tongue is cold and sweet, but his warm hands are shifting higher and higher on your bare thighs, brushing beneath the hem of your ( _his)_ oversized t-shirt.

“What’d I tell you about stealing my snacks?” He chuckle-growls as he draws back from your lips and glides his mouth along your jaw. His scruff brushes your cheek; in the dark, you can see the silhouette of his hair as it slips forward.

He laves his tongue over your pulse point, then kisses it sweetly. All the while he’s slipping a hand between your legs to thumb the cotton of your underwear, damp and warm already from his ministrations.

“That you’d be… _glad_ to share with me,” you croon, biting down hard on your lower lip, “because I return the favour often in bed.”

Bucky retaliates by pushing the crotch of your panties to one side and dipping a finger into your slit, making your whole body twitch.

“Maybe it’s time you returned the favour now, then,” he rumbles. Your hips tilt forward into his touch. You whine. You can’t even pretend not to want this.

You reach forward, fingertips brushing the elastic edge of his sweatpants. That’s all he’s wearing- since _when_ does he wander the compound in the middle of the night without a _shirt?_

You push his sweatpants and they slide precariously low on his hips. Beneath the baggy material, it’s easy to see that he’s getting hard. He nips in, slipping his hands under your thighs and pushing his hips forward to rub against you before you can even get another look.

“Bucky,” you gasp, looping your arms around his neck. He shucks his sweats down to his knees and his cock pops out against your thigh, twitching and rapidly stiffening with his growing excitement.

“Always wanted to fuck you down here,” he chuckles sleepily against your neck. He slides a hand between you to grab himself, giving a few strokes. He doesn’t need them- he’s like a steel rod against you- but he’s lining himself up and you’re already wet and this is _not_ how you thought your Wednesday night would go.

He pushes forward, pumping into you right away with near-lazy strokes.

“Aw, _fuck,”_ he groans against your skin, already starting to tremble. “ _Hell,_ baby, how come you never told me you were gonna be this tight?”

You can’t help but giggle. He’s had you a million times. But it never gets old, sex with Bucky. Not _even_ in the compound kitchen at three o’clock in the morning.

He starts to rut up into you in earnest now, seeking a precise rhythm. He holds you firmly in place as he fucks you. The slow clap of your bodies is slightly muffled by your panties, still bunched in the crook of one thigh.

He slips his right hand between your legs and finds the swell of your clit.

“That’s it,” he pants, feeling the way you clench around him when he thumbs the tight bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby, that’s _it.”_

You love the way he loses himself when he’s with you. He’s so measured in his everyday life- exercising control, nervous to seem collected in front of his other teammates. But when it’s you, when it’s _just_ you, he’s vulnerable. He’s loving. He’s charming. He’s caught up in ecstasy.

When he comes, you feel every cell of him shake. Even in the quiet of the kitchen, where he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck and huff tenderly through it, pistoning his hips messily into your body as he pumps you full of him.

He surges forward. One hand braces fervently on the granite countertop. He knocks the Cherry Garcia over. Half-melted, it pools across the shiny surface.

You hold him gently as he resurfaces, waiting until he backs slowly from you to speak. He’s tucking himself back into his pants- wet, softening, and you can’t help but ogle.

“Please remind me,” you sigh, tugging your panties back between your thighs, “to steal your ice cream way more often.”

_“Hey,”_ he barks, grinning playfully up at you. The exhaustion of the late hour is starting to settle over the both of you. “Don’t push it. I let you off with a warning this time.”

“ _That_ was just a warning?” You hop off the counter, pausing when you spot the mess out of the corner of your eye. “Shit.”

“Leave it,” Bucky growls playfully, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you close. “I kind of like it.” He grins, kissing your head.

“Somebody’s going to _kill_ us in a few hours when they find it.”

Bucky just smiles, hooking an arm around your shoulders and ushering you toward the door. Back to bed.

“Let ‘em try.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is not proofread as thoroughly as it should be. I’m throwing this at the wall and running away. Today’s prompt was ‘In the Kitchen,’ so of course I had to make it cute. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed some soft Bucky fluff! 💖 💖 💖


End file.
